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Friday, December 28, 2012

At the beginning of The
Hobbit, the reader learns that Bilbo Baggins lives in a hobbit-hole; “not a
nasty, dirty wet hole…nor a dry, bare sandy hole…it was a hobbit-hole, and that
means comfort.” Mr. Baggins loved his home, his garden, his books, and his
armchair. In other words, he’s quite content to stay home in his comfortable
environment. But, one evening as he sat down to feast on fish and vegetables,
his life changed. A knock on the door and an invitation to adventure, turned
his quiet, simple life upside down.

J.R.R. Tolkien created an amazing world in Middle-earth. While
much of what he wrote was considered fantasy, he taught many lessons for the
human world. As I think about Bilbo Baggins and the challenges he faced, I am
reminded of my own life. For as long as I can remember, I’ve been content to be
at home. I surround myself with treasures that I enjoy, most are gifts and art
made by family and friends. Puttering never bores me, and I could read or write
all day.

But, like the Hobbit, I received an invitation to live life
outside of my comfort zone. When I made a commitment to follow Jesus, I
accepted a lifetime of adventure. He called me to write, so I wrote. Devotions,
essays, poetry, those are easy for me. Then he challenged me to write fiction,
not so simple and every step a challenge. At work, my faith is tested every day.
Even in the seat at church, I’m confronted by God’s truth compared to my sin.
Yes, when I told Jesus I’d follow him, I accepted a life filled with lessons,
challenges, and adventure. Like Bilbo Baggins, I stepped out and answered the
charge. The best part, God walks with me and places others in my path and by my
side.

My comfort zone remains a wonderful place for rest and
reflection. But If I spend too much time in my secure, quiet space, I’ll miss
out on the exciting life God has planned for me.

Sunday, December 16, 2012

Friday evening, my granddaughter, Dylan, and I
attended the Nutcracker ballet at the college where I work. As we sat on the
front row and watched the ballerinas dip and twirl, I let myself drift into a
relaxing mix of peace and joy. My granddaughter and I enjoyed the program and
went home talking about the beautiful costumes and the talented dancers. Even
as we shared the excitement of the evening, I couldn’t stop thinking about the
tragedy that occurred earlier that day in Connecticut.

That night she stayed over and as she fell asleep
I thanked God for the opportunity to spend time with her. As I watched her face
fall into a restful sleep, my heart went out to the parents and grandparents
who lost children at Sandy Hook.

The next morning, we planned to take Dylan to the
mall. I have to admit, fear reverberated through me. As we walked with the
bustling crowd, I found myself thinking how I’d protect my granddaughter if I
needed to. Later, I read a post from a friend, who felt a bolt of fear because she
knew she’d need to send her children back to school on Monday. Reality tells me
that I can’t control what happens any more than my friend can. But I can rely
on God and love my family daily. Perfect love casts out all fear and perfect
love comes from God. I have to trust and pray.

As I watch my grandchildren perform in their Christmas
play this evening, I will continue to pray for those who are hurting. I’ll also
embrace the time with the little ones I hold so dear.

A
Year of Biblical Womanhood: How a Liberated Woman Found Herself Sitting on Her
Roof, Covering Her Head, and Calling Her Husband "Master"

by Rachel Held Evans

I thoroughly
enjoyed Rachel's writing. With humor, sincerity, and determination, she parted
the waters of what it means to be a woman and a believer. I did not agree with
every interpretation, but I appreciated the wisdom she gleaned from her studies
and attempts at living out the scriptural laws of the Old Testament. Supported
by her husband, Rachel delved into Proverbs 31, the life of a woman in biblical
times, women's lives that echoed the respect that Jesus gave them and the great
responsibility they held for their families and the church. A good book for a
women's book club.

Angels at the Table: A Shirley Goodness and Mercy Christmas
Story
by Debbie Macomber

This latest Shirley, Goodness and Mercy installment is a
delightful tale of angel mischief that includes the newest cherub, Will. As he
trains under the three seasoned Prayer Ambassadors, he learns that direct
interference never works for angels. Lucie and Aren are destined to meet, but
Will gets a bit ahead of himself and unravels God's timing for the young
couple. This leads to angel havoc as the heavenly quartet works to undo Will's
mistake and create a happily ever after ending. This is a fun Christmas read
that adds a sense of God's all knowing to this thing called love.

Sunday, December 9, 2012

A few months ago, when I was visiting my mom, I
asked her about my great-great grandfather Abbott who made his way to the US
from Scotland. Before the conversation ended, my mom pulled out a box of
mementos that belonged to my Grammy, Grandpa Abbott’s granddaughter. Among the
ephemera we discovered a few Christmas cards. They dated from the 1920s and were just
beautiful. I am a crafter, and I studied digital design so I appreciate the
graphics and fonts on the old-fashioned cards. I also enjoyed seeing my
great-grandmother’s signature and greeting.

Happy Christmas!

The old cards made me wonder when the tradition of
greeting cards started. Henry Cole commissioned J.C. Horsley to paint the first
printed Christmas card in 1843 in England. Then in the 1860s when color
printing made the greetings more affordable, the Victorians shared cards with
family and friends. In the United States, Louis Prang began printing cards in
1874 using eight to twenty colors. The heart-warming tradition caught on and
now almost two and a half billion Christmas cards are printed in America. (Jock
Elliot, Inventing Christmas, How our
Holiday Came to Be)

Personally, I’ve had a love/hate relationship with
Christmas cards. I love to receive them, but I haven’t always enjoyed sending
them. In lean years, they were an added expense. Some years the time just got
away from me. But in recent years, I’ve made an effort to not only send, but to
create the image on the front. By designing my own card, with the help of my
talented daughter, I feel that I’m sending a small gift-from-the-heart to every
recipient, and now I enjoy the whole process of sending cards. I’ve also gotten
onto the habit of praying for the person or family who receives my greeting.
What was once a chore has become a joy.

Sunday, December 2, 2012

Santa Claus was introduced to America in 1823 when Clement
Moore put a fresh image of giving on the face of Christmas. In A Visit from St. Nicholas also known as,
The Night before Christmas, Moore
created a story for his children based on a man named Nicholas, born around
A.D. 280 in the small town of Patara (Turkey). As a believer in the Bible,
Nicholas showed great compassion for others. He gave so much to so many that
legends spread about him. Eventually, Saint Nicholas became an icon of
generosity.

Growing up, my family celebrated the birth of Jesus by
reading the Christmas story and attending church services. The stereo played
Perry Como’s rendition of the holiday hymns. Mom positioned a crèche on the
mantel and one year we even had a live nativity on our porch. So I knew that
Christmas honored Jesus birth. On the other hand, I remember my delight when I
found packages that appeared on Christmas morning from “Santa”. The magic and
wonder that surrounded the mystery gift giver added a sparkle of fun to the day.

When my children were old enough to understand the
traditions of Christmas, I puzzled over whether to introduce Santa Claus into
the gift giving. I wanted them to know that Christmas centered on the birth of
Jesus, but I also wanted them to be acquainted with the kind, caring legend of
Saint Nicholas.

So much of the modern version of this December holiday
centers on retail sales. Rather than focus on receiving gifts from Santa, I
taught my daughters about his giving spirit.
We read the story of how he gave gold to the daughters of a widower in
the middle of the night and how he cared more about others than himself. We
also shared the story of Jesus’ nativity and talked about why we set aside
Christmas to observe his birth.

I wanted my daughters to recognize that giving was more
important than receiving. St. Nick’s story offers hope in mankind, Jesus story
offers hope for mankind. Joy fills my heart as I hear my children teaching
their children about the spirit of giving and the wonder of the season. What a blessing to share the joy of Jesus and
the legend of Santa.